


never an empty room

by cloudtalking



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Soulmate AU, Trans Neil Josten, for the aftg valentines day exchange, gratuitous use of roman numerals, this is the longest oneshot I've posted to date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudtalking/pseuds/cloudtalking
Summary: for @kevinyard: a trans neil kandreil soulmate ausoulmate (noun): a person or persons with whom one shares a soul with.visit (noun):1.an act of going or coming to see a person or place socially, as a tourist, or for some other purpose.2.when a soul is stretched thin and snaps closed, causing one to see and be seen by their soulmate





	never an empty room

**Author's Note:**

> yo i hope you like this i love writing trans neil and i love kandreil and writing aus this was super fun

I.

Andrew climbed the steps to the attic of his midwestern foster home, the only room certain to be empty of the hoards of starving children the Jacobson’s employed to pull in those monthly checks that they couldn’t seem to get enough of. Hungry dogs were never loyal; that was the first lesson Andrew had learned. 

All the lost boys went hungry to their beds, so none shared their scraps. Andrew’s stash was hidden behind the two battered copies of HG Wells books on a shelf too high for him to reach without something to prop himself up on. He’d gathered a granola bar, a few KitKats from the prize box at school, and a half-eaten sandwich kept preserved in a ziplock bag. 

He fully intended to go for the KitKats, but there was a boy blocking his path from the attic door to the bookshelf. His skin was too dark to be tan, hair cut close to his head. He was crying, or had been recently, brown eyes red and puffy. 

“Leave,” Andrew ordered. He didn’t have time to deal with another kid’s problems. He only cared for the gaps between his own very visible ribs and the gap between him and his sugar. 

“This is my room,” the other boy sniveled angrily, glaring at Andrew through his tears. He had an accent on his Th’s that made them sound like hard Ts. 

“This is the attic,” Andrew deadpanned. 

“It wasn’t a second ago,” the boy protested. “S’not my fault. I didn’t even do anything. I was just sitting on my bed and then I was here.”

Andrew blinked. 

He’d read books about fairytales and happy endings for as long as he could remember, not because he enjoyed them, but because those were the only stories he could ever get his hands on. They spoke of this; true love’s kiss, lovers born with one soul, the soul snapping like elastic after being stretched too thin, snapping its pieces all to the same frame of reality for brief and passionate meetings.

Andrew knew this; soulmate traveling was a bit like having a blot of light in your eye, they were visions only shared by those connected through the bond. Your brain told you they were there in the flesh, but in reality they simply zoned out of wherever they’d left their bodies when they visited their other halves on the astral plane. 

It happened for too many reasons to prevent it or even have a warning sign before suddenly being thrust out of your own body, the symptoms far too vague to narrow down. 

Looking at the blotchy red and tear tracks staining the other boy’s face, Andrew remembers Heightened Emotional State having been on the list.

“It’s your own fault,” Andrew decided, weaving around him to get to the bookshelf.

“No, it’s not!” The boy squawked, but Andrew ignored him in favor of pushing the most sturdy pile of boxes he could find up against the bookshelf. Climbing up to the top to reach his stash was an ordeal that contained many obstacles, the first of which being his lack of coordination, but he was practiced in this particular method of obtaining his food. 

When he finally was able to retrieve the KitKats, three in all, the boy was gone.

Rather uneventful a first meeting, especially compared to the minefield that was Andrew’s life. He supposed it was fitting. He didn’t need his soulmate to be an explosion, didn’t need to be bonded with someone who would blow up in his face. 

He goes back downstairs after licking his fingers clean of chocolate and mentions nothing to anyone. 

II. 

Kevin Day has a soulmate that isn’t Riko Moriyama. That is his only sin.

He met the blonde sometime after his mother died, holed up in his and Riko’s room alone to his tears. Riko didn’t have time for a grieving brother— anyone leaking that much had to be broken— and no Moriyama of any branch deigned to play with broken toys.

They’d seen each other more since then, enough times to know that the blonde’s name was Andrew and that he was one full year younger and five whole inches shorter than Kevin himself. He might’ve felt like that made him responsible in some way, if not for the fact that Andrew was fully functional with no one to help him and Kevin couldn’t even bear to sleep alone.

Kevin knew better to tell Riko about Andrew. Riko knew himself to be the center of the universe, knew Kevin to be a planet seen only because he was lucky enough to bathe in his light. Kevin didn’t disagree, but he was being tugged in two separate directions. Not only to Riko, but to Andrew.

He knew Riko, who had never once hinted at having another half, wouldn’t take it well. He wondered what happened to the planets when the sun went supernova.

Then Kevin wasn’t only halved, but cut into thirds. 

There was a girl in his room, Auburn ringlets curling around her round face. Her skin was darker than his own, but only just, and her eyes a startling blue. 

Her hands were coated up to the forearm in blood. It wasn’t hers.

She seemed just as surprised as he with the current situation, though she hadn’t quite fallen onto her rear into a pile of discarded books and sports magazines the way he had.

“You aren’t Lola,” she told him. Kevin arched a brow, a vision of superiority that wasn’t quite as effective from his position on the floor. 

“No. I’m Kevin,” he said, pushing himself up onto his feet so he towered over her. She was even shorter than Andrew and probably even younger. He was sure he’d be pleased. 

“Oh.” She wiped one of her hands onto her already bloodied skirt and held it out. “You can call me Abram.”

Kevin blinked. “Abram?”

“It’s better than my real name,” she said, turning up her nose. She extended her hand a bit farther, prompting Kevin to take it and give it an awkwardly quick shake. He instantly itched to wash his hands, though they were just as pristine as they’d been before Abram had appeared.

“So, Kevin.” His name sounded funny as she dragged it out, rolling it around on her tongue. “You’re my soulmate?”

“One of them.” He nodded. “There’s three of us.”

“Oh, goodie.” She grimaced. “If you ever come to see me, don’t expect me to say hi to you.” 

Andrew had said something similar, and Kevin had echoed the sentiment. Unless they were alone, they tried their best to appreciate each other’s company in comfortable silence.

“As long as you do the same.” He shrugged. 

Abram didn’t grin at him, but she didn’t seem to be quite as unhappy as before. 

Then, presumably by the Lola she’d mentioned earlier, Abram was wrenched back into her body. She left behind a memory of a child’s face contorted in pain and the echo of a scream. 

III.

Nothing about this was okay, but Andrew stood unwavering in the aftermath. There was blood in places he’d almost forgotten could bleed. His skin was alive with phantoms of roaches and millipedes and unwanted hands, crawling all over his body. He needed more than anything to burn the evidence away.

Heightened Emotional State his ass. 

He didn’t move from the bed, he wasn’t sure if he could, but it wasn’t the bed he’d passed out in. It was far more expensive, large enough to fit both he and who he knew to be Abram without them ever having to touch.

Abram’s skin was several shades darker than it should be in more places than could be explained away by particularly violent stairs. She was a mess of healing cuts and bruises, dried blood glueing her to the sheets. 

But she said nothing about his injuries besides shuffle over to give him more room, so he let her stare up at the ceiling with swollen eyes and pretend she wasn’t crying. 

The stories said that those that shared a bond shared a soul. Between the three of them, Andrew doubted their soul would survive.

IV.

Natalie Wesninski knew exactly the person she was supposed to be, especially in front of her father. She was to be silent and icy, to wear the nice dresses her mother picked out for her, and to do exactly as she was told. 

She couldn’t show how much the dresses bothered her, how anxious she was to be within five feet of Nathan Wesninski even on a good day. She was Natalie and not Abram. She knew what she needed to do.

So when she was for once not the only one capable of seeing Kevin, she didn’t bother reaching out. He was similarly silent.

They both had roles to play and people to please. It was nothing personal.

Natalie didn’t flinch when her father began his art, separating a man’s limbs from his body. Kevin didn’t cry when he was introduced to death for the second time in his life.

They stayed silent, distant like strangers and not two pieces cut from the same stone. It was nothing personal.

V.

“You were supposed to stay,” Kevin said, voice shaking more than Abram had ever heard it.

“I wouldn’t have liked it there.” The Nest, for all that it had Kevin, was not Abram’s home. It wasn’t meant to be anyone’s home, especially at such a young age. Kevin had never been quite clear on what he and Riko were doing there, but he was allowed his secrets the same as any of them.

No one asked Andrew about his silences. No one asked Kevin about the Nest. No one asked Abram about being Abram.

“They’re going to hunt you down,” Kevin warned. “That’s what Riko said. You were supposed to be his.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Abram announced, teeth bared.

“No, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t pay five million dollars for you. They’re not just going to let you go.”

“It doesn’t change anything.” Abram knew from the moment Mary had started packing that this wouldn’t end well. Nathan Wesninski would not allow them to leave with all their fingers and toes still attached, and Lola would only be too happy to detach them. A life spent running from the Wesninskis was still worlds better than one spent living three rooms down from the ringleader, even adding the Yakuza to the list of hunters after their heads. 

Abram didn’t need to live peacefully. He only needed to live.

VI.

Andrew was a fan of the black hair, although he refused to say as much. 

Abram couldn’t stop touching it, stroking the short black strands obsessively, checking for red peeking out of the roots.

“I’m a boy.” Abram declared, as if expecting to be challenged. 

“You’re an annoyance.” Andrew ripped open a packet of M&Ms. Unlike Kevin, Abram never judged him for his insatiable sweet tooth. Abram’s taste in food was almost worse, Kevin had said, which made Andrew wonder exactly what Abram had to do to get Kevin to give up on him.

Abram beamed, a sight so rare Andrew was nearly blinded by it.

It was nothing.

VII. 

“What are you doing?” Kevin’s arrival was announced by way of immediate conversation, something that never happened with Andrew and only happened with Kevin when he was sure they were alone.

It was a good assumption to make. The house Abram was squatting in didn’t seem to have anyone else lurking around aside from mice and a few large bugs.

“Au francais,” Abram spat. His mother had thrown him a French to English dictionary and told him to go wild. He’d been sitting there since five thirty, trying and failing to memorize the entire thing front to back. It was two in the afternoon, meaning his mother would come home to find her so-called son had made exactly zero progress.

Kevin said something in return that Abram knew to be French only because of the sheer pretentiousness of the pronunciation. 

He groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

Kevin smirked, spouting even more indecipherable bullshit.

“You’re a motherfucker.” Abram jabbed his pointer finger into Kevin’s surprisingly firm chest. It was always shocking, just how solid his soulmates were, even if they weren’t really there. 

“Who taught you how to talk?” Kevin asked in English, frowning.

“You,” Abram countered. Kevin sighed, unwilling to admit his wrongdoings. Between Andrew and Kevin, Abram was a lost cause.

“I’ll teach you that, too.” Kevin gestured at the dictionary. “It’s a lot easier with someone to learn it from.”

“Thank you.” Abram could have hugged him, though he never did. 

By the time his mother returned, Abram was able to ask for names and say his please and thank you’s without trouble. She wasn’t thrilled, but her hands stayed at her sides and her voice stayed low, so Abram figured he’d exceeded expectations for the night. 

VIII. 

Andrew slid into a chair next to Kevin, startling him from his staring contest with the wall. Still, he said nothing.

It was one of those days.

They sat at a long table in a sparsely decorated meeting room, though it was only Kevin and the other Ravens of importance; Tetsuji, Riko, and Jean Moreau. 

Andrew had limited experience with all of the above, all from days like this. Andrew’s Kevin was opinionated and idiotic, staying up too late at night and obsessing over historical conspiracies. Andrew’s Kevin was a confrontive kind of asshole, afraid of violence but not afraid to be loudly honest about what he thought of Andrew’s diet. 

The Kevin that Riko had groomed and manipulated seemed so alien to him. This Kevin was silent, was a coward. He did what he was told and nothing else. He wasn’t physically capable of anything else. This Kevin was one Riko had complete control of, one that would change even the coding in his DNA if Riko asked him to.

Kevin defended Riko, called him things like brother and friend. He said that Riko had been there for him since the beginning, but Andrew knew it was simply that Kevin didn’t know anything else but Riko. He didn’t know what was and wasn’t healthy.

Andrew knew Kevin still hadn’t told his so-called brother that he had a soulmate, that he had two of them. That was reason enough to be wary.

Riko’s Kevin was the Kevin in charge today. He tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for Tetsuji to begin. 

Riko slammed his hand down on Kevin’s, flattening his palm on the slate gray of the table. 

Andrew watched, cruel familiarity curling in his stomach as Kevin froze, eyes wide and breathing heavy until Riko released him. His hand remained flat on the table, still as a corpse.

Andrew had never wanted to interact with the world outside of his soulmates so desperately before. His hands curled into fists.

It wasn’t long after that Tetsuji started his speech, not bothering to spare a shivering Kevin any more than a glance. Andrew tuned out, exy-related charts and statistics flying over his head.

“I won’t let him hurt you.” Andrew promised.

Kevin blinked at the violation of over a decade of vowed silenced in the company of others. 

“You won’t have a choice,” he whispered.

X. 

“I’m a boy,” Abram said, in French. He switched to English. “Did I get it right?”

“You’re a boy,” Kevin affirmed in the same language. Then his eyes widened. “Wait, are you?”

“Yeah,” Abram replied, voice quiet.

“Oh.” 

Kevin was silent as he processed this. Yes, Abram was a boy. He was never a girl to Kevin either, but Kevin had figured that was because he hadn’t seen a girl his age or around since coming to the Nest by the time he’d met Abram. He was never sure what to say or do around women, though he knew whatever Riko told him about the matter was bullshit.

Abram had never been distant or awkward or new. Abram was a part of him, a shared of his soul.

Abram was a boy.

“You’re a boy,” Kevin said again, adding power to the words.

“I’m a boy.” Abram grinned.

It didn’t take long for Kevin’s dam to break and for him to start spouting questions like a waterfall. Abram answered some and told Kevin to go fuck himself at others.

Kevin had two soulmates. He deserved neither of them, but the universe saw fit to bestow them upon him despite the fact. He’d learn as much as he could to become worthy of the soul that they shared. Anything it took to keep them happy.

IX. 

“Why are we in jail?”

“I got arrested.”

“I can see that!” Kevin snapped. He hadn’t stopped pacing.

Andrew sighed, lying down on the bottom bunk of his two-person cell. He’d not yet been assigned anyone to share it with, which was probably more clever planning by whoever organized the rooming situations than it was luck. 

He was arrested for beating up a senior about the size of a barn door. Eyewitness reports stated that the other boy had been crowding Andrew against an alley wall and bludgeoning him with a combination of threats and insults. Throwing the first punch was simply because he was scared he’d have to throw the second. The prosecution argued he’d done quite a good job for someone who was just scared.

Picking a fight with bigots was never hard to do. Andrew was out of Cass’s house and into Juvenile detention faster than you could say your son is a rapist and an abuser. 

“Minyard!” A guard said, entering his cell without so much of a hello. “You’ve got a meeting with your counselor.”

“I’ll set up an appointment,” he said, watching the guard roll his eyes.

“You’re late to the appointment,” The guard snarked back. “C’mon, before I have to make you.”

Kevin joins them on their journey, head turning all about to soak up every inch of the detention center. Andrew kept his eyes straight, ignoring his soulmate’s repetitive sounds of fear and disgust. 

Abram wouldn’t be as annoying in a situation like this, but Abram had also done things that warranted being tried as an adult, so that wasn’t surprising.

Doctor Cumming’s office displayed his name on silver plating above the door. Proudly, in all caps. Rather unfortunate in a detention center full of boys who still laughed at the I CUP gag.

“This facility offers special programs for boys like you,” Cummings began. Andrew wondered if he knew about the illustration of him that’d been inked in permanent marker in the first stall of the bathroom nearest to the cafeteria. Modern art was beautiful. “Boys with admittedly violent urges. We have a baseball team, a basketball team, a football team, an exy team, and a chess club. Your therapist has recommended you for these programs and, fortunately for you, there’s two open spots.”

Kevin’s face perked up at the first mention of exy, and now his eyes were bright with excitement. Andrew rubbed his temples to chase away his oncoming headache.

“You can join the baseball or exy team, I hear the latter is in desperate need for a goalie,” Cummings smiled at him in a way that was most definitely practiced. “What do you say, son?”

“You have to choose exy.” Kevin was practically drooling at the idea. “Andrew that’d be perfect, holy shit— you have to. Andrew c’mon—”

“Is neither an option?” He asked, interrupting his single-minded soulmate.

“Absolutely not, I’m afraid.” Cummings didn’t look very afraid at all. Andrew felt that maybe he should make him. “You’ve opted to decline all other group activities, so these are your only options.”

Baseball was a beloved American pass time, which meant that it was redundant and Andrew was sure it was created as a form of punishment. Hours of nothingness to watch on television and pretend is entertaining. As much as Andrew’s tolerance to ibuprofen increased every time exy was mentioned, he’d rather die than touch a baseball.

“Exy,” Andrew said. He did his best to ignore Kevin’s celebrations as he resigned himself to hours of forced team bonding and exercise. This was hell. 

It didn’t take long to find that Andrew was a goalkeeping prodigy. Kevin was never going to shut up about this ever.

XI.

“I’m teaching Andrew how to play exy,” Kevin announced. “Not that he pays attention at all, which I can’t understand. He plays like he was born to do it, but acts like it’s the most boring chore on the planet. And I know for a fact that that’s the most exciting thing he ever does anymore, being stuck in Juvie and all, so it isn’t that.” He flopped down on Abram’s bed, more accurately described as a lawn chair covered in a pillow and a blanket. “He’s just such a difficult asshole. I can’t believe we’re soulmates.”

Kevin and Andrew were both equally difficult when they wanted to be, but Abram didn’t comment. They all shared a soul, all had a hand in tasing each other. He knew for a fact he had no room to talk.

Instead he said:

“I wouldn’t mind it— If you taught me how to play exy, I mean.” He’d been able to watch Kevin and Riko play when he visited the Nest, and he’d seen a few games since then. He’d been too chained up in a black dress and a pair of small heels to join in. 

“I’d love to.” Kevin smiled, rolling over on his side to face Abram where he was sitting on the ground.

Abram spent the next hour being lectured by the son of Kayleigh Day on the sport both he and his mother had dedicated their lives to. He couldn’t imagine how Andrew wasn’t immediately enraptured by Kevin’s words, by learning about Kevin’s world.

If he stayed behind to watch his school’s exy practice the next day, his mother didn’t need to know.

XII.

“Andrew?” Abram asked, squinting at the sleeping form of a familiar blonde. 

“Not him.” 

Abram flipped around. His soulmate, on a twin bed set up next to his apparent twin’s twin bed.

“What the fuck.”

“I have a brother.”

“What the fuck.”

“His name is Aaron. Mother Dearest was planning to put both of us in the system but got cold feet and decided to play eenie meenie minie moe to choose which one she kept.”

“Holy shit, Andrew—“

“She’s a drug addict. They both are, but she’s the one who feeds him her shit. She beats him.”

“Andrew—“

“I’m going to kill her.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Abram sat down next to Andrew. “What the fuck. Has she hurt you?”

“She tried. She’s not used to people fighting back.” 

Abram wondered if this was how Andrew felt about his own mother. This burning feeling, curling in his stomach and sparking in his veins. 

“I know people you can call,” he offered. “They’d get it done quick.”

“If you want anything done correctly, do it yourself,” Andrew quoted. “I promised I’d make her pay if she ever touched him again. She didn’t listen. I’ll be the one to carry it out.”

Abram nodded. “I’m here if you need help.”

They were of the same soul, a soul Abram himself had doomed to hell many times over. It was of no consequence for Andrew to continue down a path they’d already begun.

Kevin didn’t need to know.

XIII.

“Everytime I’m with you, you have a new bedroom,” Kevin noted.

“You’re the only one that never changes,” Andrew pointed out. 

“Change isn’t allowed in the nest.” Kevin shrugged.

“Has he touched you?” Andrew asked, specification unneeded.

“I don’t disobey him.” That didn’t answer his question. “Jean is the one who gets hurt.”

“Kevin.” They’re in Andrew’s bedroom. Andrew is sitting on his bed. Kevin is standing, towering over him. He’s about as powerful as a pawn in chess, only useful for taking up space. “Has he touched you?”

There’s silence for a long time. 

“Sometimes he talks about soulmates,” Kevin choked out. “He talks about how he doesn’t go anywhere or see anyone, how I don’t have anyone besides him. I think he thinks I’m his.”

“You’re not,” Andrew is quick to say. “Has he touched you?”

“Not yet.” It’s a thousand times worse than not at all.

Andrew stood up, grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him close. “I’ll kill him too.”

Kevin laughed instead of cried and desperately didn’t want to know who made it too.

XIV. 

“You’re taking german?” Abram held up Nicky’s battered copy of an English to German dictionary.  Andrew nodded.

His cousin had given it to him on loan with strict instructions to take good care of it. There were doodles in the margins, highlights on certain words, sentences written on every open space. 

Andrew knew that this dictionary had been with Nicky long before high school German.

“I can help you with that,” Abram offered. “I’m good at German.”

“I still remember some from when you lived there.” Whenever Abram learned a new language, he roped the other two into it to help him practice. Andrew in return had started teaching Abram what little Korean he’d picked up along with a small amount of middle school Spanish. “I don’t need any more help.”

“If you say so.” Abram put the book back down on Andrew’s desk. Then he joined Andrew on the bed, sitting by his feet.

“Someone kissed me today,” Abram said with the air of a person reporting the weather. “I still don’t see the appeal.”

“Did you want it?”

“I didn’t say no.” Abram shrugged. “I didn’t push her away, either. It wasn’t too unpleasant, but it wasn’t anywhere near the level of enjoyment people seem to think it is.”

“It’s better when it’s consensual.”

“It wasn’t that kind of situation, Andrew. She just put her lips on mine for a few seconds and left. I didn’t even have time to decide whether I liked it or not.”

“That’s shit and you know it,” Andrew pointed out. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Abram shrugged. “The point is; I don’t know if I want to kiss you or Kevin, but I’m fine with it if you want to kiss each other while I’m figuring it out.”

“We haven’t even met yet.”

“You don’t need to meet to kiss him.” Abram rolled his eyes. “Just— I’m not ready for that, but I don’t want to hold you back if you are.”

“You’re not holding us back.” 

“Not anymore I’m not.”

“Abram.” Andrew didn’t touch him, but his hard gaze was almost tangible, holding Abram in place. “If I wanted to kiss Kevin, I would’ve asked by now. I’m perfectly capable of deciding what I want. We don’t need your permission.”

Abram let his head drop. “Okay.”

They didn’t say anything more until Abram disappeared back to whatever Hungarian slum he was squatting in.

XV.

It took Andrew a minute too long to realize neither he nor Kevin was visiting the other.

“Andrew Minyard.” Riko Moriyama grinned at him. Behind him was Kevin Day, expertly avoiding meeting Andrew’s eyes, and behind him was Andrew’s mess of a coach. The latter was practically overflowing with excitement, unable to take his eyes off of the sons of exy.

Andrew didn’t need to hear Riko’s speech to know his response to their offer.

“No.”

Riko’s smile fell. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. Do you need me to spell it out for you? I thought ravens were supposed to be intelligent.” Andrew gestured to the door. “You can go now, shoo.”

“Andrew—” Kevin tried, but Andrew shook his head.

“Not like this. The ravens are more of a cult than a team. I’m not joining up.”

“You won’t get a better offer. In fact, it took months of Kevin’s whining before I even agreed to extend this one,” Riko seethed. “You have a criminal record and no other defining characteristics besides your potential at goalkeeping. But you don’t even give a shit about that, negating your worth quite efficiently.”

“Astute,” Andrew noted. “No one asked.”

Kevin kept his head trained on the floor. 

“Andrew?” Aaron’s voice interrupted from the door. He stepped back on his heels, reading the room and grasping that he’d intruded on a conversation much more important than whatever reason he’d burst in.

“Nicky’s here,” Aaron said after regaining his composure. He didn’t take his eyes off of Riko and Kevin, two stars in the midst of empty space. 

Andrew quickly made his way past the prodigal sons and his coach to his brother. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

“You’ll regret this,” Riko warned. 

“Stop lifting your lines from movie villains.”

XVI.

“You and Kevin are fighting right now, aren’t you?”

“I can assure you that I will not be kissing him.”

“Thought so.”

XVII. 

“Fuck, Andrew— Stop!”

He didn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Not until the bigots that had put their hands on his cousin were twice as bloodied as he. 

Kevin wouldn’t touch him, not without explicit permission, but that didn’t stop him from screaming.

“Please!” There were tears falling from Kevin’s cheeks.

He stopped, blood turning cold. 

“They’re beat to hell, are you happy?” Kevin wiped the tears off of his face. “Because this is the kind of shit that ruins your life.”

“Fuck off,” Andrew growled. 

He was able to get Nicky and Aaron into the G6, hurrying out the door and taking off before the cops could arrive at the scene. Nicky had to go to the hospital, but Andrew got off with only a few bruises and very little conflict with the authorities.

“Riko sent them,” Kevin confessed after Andrew’s nails had ceased their carving into his palms. “I only found out after he made the phone call. I just— I knew I had to be here to stop you. I’m sorry.”

“Idiot.” Andrew glared.

When he got up for a smoke, Kevin didn’t protest. 

XVIII. 

“You’re a fox.” Abram was vibrating in excitement. “Holy shit, Andrew. You’re gonna play in college!”

“Oh yes, the worst team in the league. What fun,” Andrew deadpanned.

“You’re living my dream, at least pretend you’re having fun with it.”

“Live through Kevin, I don’t care enough about this bullshit to pretend for you.”

“Fuck you.” Abram scowled. “This is a good thing,  let me be happy for you.”

“You don’t have to do it in my presence,” Andrew pointed out. “You can do it on your own time, or with Kevin. I’m sure you’d both have a field day over it.”

“I’m pretty sure  happiness is on the list of shit that’ll get me a black eye, so no thank you.,” Abram snorted.

“Abram.” Andrew stared at him. Abram squirmed under the weight his gaze, not used to the scrutiny his words were under even after over a decade of it. 

“She’s getting anxious,” Abram admitted. “She thinks my father might be getting close. It’s putting her on edge, waiting for him to show up. Usually she’s better, it’s only recently—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Andrew cut him off. “She’s abusing you.”

“This isn’t new.” Abram scowled. “I’ve handled it for seventeen years. I can handle it now.”

Oddities of Abram’s behavior over the years suddenly added up. It wasn’t a good feeling. 

“She’s better than my father,” Abram continued. “She’s not bad at all, really—“

“She hurts you.”

“Yes,” Abram allowed. “But she does it to keep me alive.”

“As if that makes it any better?” Andrew arched a brow. “You know better than that.”

“Fuck off, Andrew.” 

XIX.

This time, Andrew knows what is reality and what isn’t. 

“Get on the bus!” Wymack orders, herding the team back onto the orange vehicle and closing the doors behind them. There’s someone in the front seat that Abby’s fussing over, a blanket covering the parts of them that would otherwise be visible.

“Coach, who is that?” Dan asks, moving to get a better look. Wymack blocks her path. 

“You're going to have to keep this a secret.” Wymack glares pointedly at all of them. “He came to us for help, and we’re not going to turn him away. He’s going to be hiding with us for the foreseeable future.”

“Who?” Matt pipes up from behind the captain.

“Kevin Day. His hand is broken, and we’re going to give him a place to stay while he recovers.”

Andrew is pushing past Wymack in an instant, crowding Abby out of the seat.

“‘Drew,” Kevin slurs. The vodka on his breath is almost stronger than the pain on his face. His left hand is, true to Wymack’s speech, bandaged up and held close to his chest. 

“It was Riko.” There was no question in Andrew’s voice. Kevin winced, but nodded despite himself.

“What the fuck?” Wymack asked from behind them. “The hell is going on right now?”

“I’ll kill him,” Andrew said, ignoring his coach. It was a threat so often made that it was almost redundant.

“Don’t.” Kevin shook his head. “He’ll kill you first, he’s powerful—“

“He’s a spoiled brat.”

“A spoiled Moriyama brat.”

“That changes nothing.”

Kevin just shook his head again, too tired to argue. Andrew handed him the already half-empty bottle of vodka sitting nearby.

“What am I witnessing right now?”

“Above your paygrade, coach.”

XX. 

Abram burned his mother’s bones in the sand and wished desperately that either Kevin or Andrew were there. Andrew would kick his ass into gear, Kevin would comfort him. Neither of them would leave him there, tears streaking silently down his cheeks as he buried his fucking mother.

It wasn’t long until Abram realized they’d never be there for him again. Paparazzi had reported one Kevin Day in Palmetto, meaning Andrew and Kevin were together.

The soul wouldn’t snap near as much with two of its pieces so close, the elastic had been stretched enough so that Abram’s distance was a comfortable fit. 

They would be fine with each other. They would be fine without him. He would be fine without his mother. He would be fine without them.

Abram is seventeen years old the first time he chooses a name for himself. 

Neil Abram Josten.

He’s alone now, but he’s fine. Neil Josten doesn’t have a soulmate, let alone two of them. He’ll be fine on his own. 

XXI.

“Abram is going to die,” Kevin said, pacing a hole in the carpeted floor of their dorm. “He’s going to get himself fucking killed.”

“He’d do that with or without us,” Andrew pointed out. “We’ll just have to find him before he can.”

Kevin dropped backwards onto his bed. “He better still be alive, that self-sacrificing motherfucker.”

Kevin continued to curse out the third piece of their soul for the rest of the night, polishing off most of Andrew’s emergency stash and passing out.

If Andrew had blown through half a pack of cigarettes in the time it took for him to fall asleep, it wasn’t anyone’s business but his.

XXII.

“Can i kiss you?” Kevin asked, for once not drunk off his ass. The last time he’d asked he’d been on the brink of regurgitating his dinner, so neither of them had acted on it.

“Hands in your pockets,” Andrew ordered, waiting for Kevin to comply before grasping Kevin’s face in his hands. 

“Yes or no?”

“Fuck yes.”

It wasn’t either of their first kisses, but it was the only one that counted. 

XXIII.

“This one.” Andrew jabbed his finger at one picture in a million piles of folders. All of them came with their own brand of tragic backstories; only the best for the foxes. 

“Neil Josten,” Kevin read aloud, arching a brow.

“Neil Abram Josten,” Andrew corrected. 

Kevin did a double-take, eyes burning holes into the picture. He was terribly familiar, dark eyes and hair included. Abram had always been a chameleon.

“Watch him play if you need to, but it’s him.”

He didn’t need to watch him play to know it was him. He did anyway, playing the tapes so many times they were on constant loop behind his eyelids.

XXIV.

Neil took one look at Kevin and sprinted out of the locker rooms, only for him to slam right into someone of his way out. 

He narrowly avoided falling, the stranger’s arms coming to wrap around his waist and steady him.

“Better luck next time,” a familiar voice whispered into his ear. He froze.

“Fuck you,” Neil cursed, slumping into Andrew’s hold.

“You’re not getting away so easily,” Kevin said, coming up behind him.

“Fuck you too, honestly.” Neil pulled away from Andrew, facing both of his soulmates at once. “How the hell did you find me?”

“Hernandez sent us your tapes,” Kevin explained. “Officially, we’re not here as your soulmates. We’re here to recruit you.”

“You’re joking.”

“He’s not,” an actual stranger, Coach Wymack if he remembered correctly, said, walking out of the locker room with Hernandez by his side. “You managed to impress Kevin, and from what your coach has told me, you’re going to need a place to stay when school lets out. This works best for both of us.”

“No.” Neil shook his head. “I can’t, I—“

“You don’t really have a choice,” Andrew said. “We’re not getting in that plane if you’re not on it.”

“Hope you like Arizona, then,” Neil snarked, but he knew when he’d lost.

Getting on the flight to South Carolina felt like both the most traitorous and the most right thing he’d ever done. 

XXV.

Neil Abram Josten spent his first few weeks in South Carolina holed up in Columbia with his soulmates. 

“This is real,” he said, mostly to convince himself. 

“You’re a pipe dream,” Andrew scoffed, but Neil grinned back at him.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asked, waiting for Andrew’s nod before he intertwined their fingers, bringing Andrew’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

“This is real,” Neil marveled. “You’re right here. You’re really here.”

“So are you.” Kevin came bearing coffee, setting the three mugs on Andrew’s nightstand before joining them on the bed. 

Neil grabbed Kevin’s hand too, mirroring his action with Andrew’s. Even with the realism of the Visits, this was so much more. 

It scared him, how much he wanted this. He knew he couldn’t run even if he tried.

“I missed you,” he admitted, gaze focused on his soulmates hands in favor of looking either of them in the eyes.

Kevin pulled his hand out of Neil’s grip, only to put it around his shoulders and pull him closer to his chest. Andrew used the hand not holding Neil’s to tilt his face up, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“You’re never leaving us again,” Andrew promised. It was a terrifying concept, but Neil welcomed it all the same.

In each other’s arms, they were whole. Neil wouldn’t trade this away for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all liked it!!
> 
> scream at me on @twnyards on the hellsite


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